How much experience did we receive from the last night plus the previous? 6+14=20 or 6+15=21? We had 6 from the first night I think, thus these PCs should be 26 or 27 over 60 or 86 or 87 points which means Druids and below are 5th lvl....

Wow, Another Natural One! You guys are a sink hole for luck. Stay away from my dice.

"Now that the Dark Knight has been freed from his water clock prison, we need to gather around the first alter stone. I will perform a healing ritual for all who were injured. But more important than our trivial wounds, we have two blood rituals to perform, a Warrior of Arawan shall be Blessed and our vanquished enemies shall begin The Last March to their final resting place of honor." Raven

"Missy (a rather loud whisper directed at Rijkaard from JD), you are big and strong, but disciplined. When we get out from under this Fey Geas come fight for me in the pits. We could make a great deal of money together. We just got to play up your feminine side to sucker them in.. you'll have to learn how to take a few punches and faint a bit better to rise up the bets. I can teach you how to throw up punch or kick that looks like a total accident.. that will really drive up the odds. My brothers can lay some good bets then you can let'm have it. Its a sure thing, but we need to get out of this nuttiness and return to the Pitts. What do you say little missy, we got a business deal when this is done? I might even teach you to fight dirty, just to be safe." JD whispers far too loudly...

Wow, Another Natural One! You guys are a sink hole for luck. Stay away from my dice.

Freedom, glorious freedom from the Yoke of Guidance and Worry. I can now settle back and worry about my PC's actions, mystique, and interaction with fellow team mates and little more. I will likely still worry about the game, the game fairness, and play for all, as you mature as players and come to understand RPGs on paper, its in my nature. Self interest is to ensure that if, or when, I have to run a game again its there to keep running smoothly. Its in all our best interests to run a gaming world where each of us who wants to run games can run them. Run them smoothly from CK to CK with the same loved PCs or new ones as the team desires.

These are games for fun, we all need to have fun, even the CK.

Connor has started off a great fun night, I for one raise my drinking horn to him. JD, Raven and I all congratulate him. By the way, anyone wanting to play Raven or Sprite speak up and a second PC is all yours, either of these two are really "NPCs" for the group's good.

Some of our players will come and go, sad as that may be, the whole group could collapse as happens from time to time, but I'd like to give it a good run.

Here are some suggestions I have learned over the decades:

1) Not everyone makes a good CK, not everyone wants to even try, but it can be fun to try and helps a player run a game too. Yes that's an invite.
2) Each CK should NOT play their own PCs, leave them behind if at all possible.
3) Each CK should get 110% of experience, but not cash and no magic items.
4) Each CK should have their own sphere's of influence and control.
5) CKs need to work together and in parallel to mutually agreed upon "world rules"..

Yeah, sounds kind of heavy, but it works, I hope to have many CKs to ensure fun for all in a variety of worlds!

Wow, Another Natural One! You guys are a sink hole for luck. Stay away from my dice.

Hope everyone is ready for tomorrow! I have the adventured planned out. There are lots of options and many places to explore. There will be a bonus in experience points to the person who gives the best recap at the start of the session tomorrow. See everyone there.

Two new and vibrant characters in, one seasoned and wise player out. The two cannot replace the one, three would be best, but life and gaming must have their sad departures as well as their happy reunions of former players and new players alike. So the mirror faces two ways yet again..

Here is to an exciting and fast paced new beginning...

Wow, Another Natural One! You guys are a sink hole for luck. Stay away from my dice.

I know it seems strange but the team worked as a unit to realize two mothers and their cubs/fledglings battling for their next meal and the right to survive is neither evil or unnatural. The natural dilemma presented workout out in a rather interesting if not chaotic sort of dance with a Yale charging onto the scene, a character leaving for the North, a new character arriving from the North, and players working together while another ran off alone into the woods so predictably that most of the party hardly noticed and were more entranced with the seven sun-dried dead monks staked into pits around the stone and wood Tower of Virtue... one even wandered into the mucky, cat tailed, dark waters surrounding the Tower !!!

So when next we meet will it be the end of the heavily ladened Priest or will our crazed woodland sprinter return in time to save the day by returning order and clear direction to our group?

Tune in next time for the exciting action packed beginning of The Tower of Virtue!

PS We have six new methods of critical rolls to try from the CKG.. #6 is really very scary. Roll at natural 20, then roll a second d20 and if you get a 20 decapitation! 19 ain't bad either. So do you have the guts to try Method six????

PPS Bring the CK a copy of your character sheet prior to the game start ready to rate its readiness for prime time play - aka is it really all filled out??? You will gain experience points on a sliding scale of 6 points for fully detail sheets with encumbrance calculated down to 1 point for merely turning in what you got with all sort of problems.

Wow, Another Natural One! You guys are a sink hole for luck. Stay away from my dice.

Jeff's Cleric is first to comply. Thus he will have a special surprise delivered straight to his hands by mythical equivalent of the pony express.. see how good it is to pay attention and do stuff the CK wants. Further, if he's the only one doing it his submission will be by definition the best and win the experience prize also.

Get on it folks...

Wow, Another Natural One! You guys are a sink hole for luck. Stay away from my dice.

The depths of the Northlands. My people dwell hidden near what the humans call Tromsø. Don't try to find it. You won't. We live off the land, bear being our primary sustenance and fabric. Slow as the ice derive action. Ebbing and flowing like glacial tide, we take only what we need in lean times, and nurture the wilds in when prosperous. We float along in silence. I left that dwelling place. Wanderlust, perhaps, or a calling. I know not which anymore.

The depths of obscurity. In my youth, I whiled away as a scout. While dull at the best times, it taught me the patience in learning the local languages of water, wind, and land. This aided me as I wandered the northern wilderness, keeping me well fed and secure. I eventually found myself in Strøby Egede, serving Flotilleadmiral in the king's navy. While I saw few battles, decisive victories were made at the hands of my fleet. I remember little else of my past, because I don't think much of it. Throughout my travels, I took interest in the human struggle. Simple minds with a focus on what is in front of them. Rarely do they look at the past, and always planning for future needs; they live day by day. I developed a mindset similar to humans and lost my outlook inherited by my ancestors. The elves: always ten steps ahead and 1000 steps back. Though I cherish my heritage, the feel of the nets in my hands as I cast them into the sea, the spray of the ocean, the mead in the halls; all bring me back to this humanic "presence" of mind. I relish in it.

The depths of the sea. As I said, the sea holds a special place in my heart. Now, in peace time, I tend to my nets on a small fishing boat, occasionally offering my services as a coastal guide to travelers and soldiers. In return, I learn of the world and keep tabs on anything brooding from afar. However, I remain mindful of what is in front of me.

I think our new more lethal nights give a bit more excitement to things. I hope someone will recap for 4 experience points. Each PC can gain this through a recap from their PCs eyes.. no need to be first, but it must be there before the next night.

Wow, Another Natural One! You guys are a sink hole for luck. Stay away from my dice.

Wizzby the Anklebiter:
With the images of the grisly slaying of the innocent and peace loving bears freshly upon my mind, I quitted the scene in terror. Incapacitated by the grief and misery imparted upon me by the dastardly bear slaying dӕmon, I stumbled blindly through the forest with no regard for what might befall me in such treacherous surroundings. Suddenly, a shout rose up out of the void and pierced my troubled mind. My mind happened not to be the only thing that was pierced as a spear took me from behind and I rose up into the air. The voice of a fair maiden sung out and engaged me in intercourse, “♫ Do not be afraid…I am not here to harm you ♫”. To my surprise, and delight, soft but firm hands grasp me from behind and laid me down upon the heaving back of the white stallion on which I was now mounted. I was returned to whence I came and was forcefully expelled off of the back of the steed.

After surveying the scene, I realized my brethren had gotten into a confrontation with and nearly defeated by an oodle of muck. It seemed that the fall had shaken me, and I no longer felt quite like myself. The world seemed different in ways for which I could not account. It seemed the group had now begun surveying the area taking keen interest in the tower in the center. Orantallio began to climb the wooden bridge across the acidic and perilous moat in order to gain entrance. The hand of a gelatinous monster reached from the depths and snatched at his leg as he crossed. Orantallio narrowly dodged the attack. He made it across the bridge to the door ledge, unable to enter. He was perched precariously on the ledge as he was directed to “Catch!” a poison dart that presented itself as a projectile. He positioned himself perilously to pinch it out of the air, and plunged it into the beast which had now strangulated his leg with its poisonous tentacles. The Cleric valiantly dashed across the already weakened ledge to his succor, but both were unable to gain access into the keep.

Still feeling at odds with myself, something overcame me. A well of knowledge flooded over me, and it seemed that I had gained a deep understanding of things that I knew not before. My mind melded into the wooden door and I began to feel the flowing grains of the knurled wood. I warped and bended the hinges of the door until the door fell in on itself. It has bent to my will, in a way that I had only heard was rumored to be possible. The two upon the ledge were saved.

After loosing an arrow into the fell beast, a failed leap/throw from the tower resulted in chaos as Orantallio plunged into the foul muck. Pans was barely able to save him (for the moment) in time. A heroic double daggered leap by the rogue put an end to the beast.

Clarity rushed in, and my mind was finally cleared of the haze that had pervaded. As all this was happening, I barely had time to notice the treacherous bear slaying dӕmon sabotaging us from behind. It seemed he had awoke the sleeping monk (for what reason only he know…who can understand the intentions of a lunatic?) and proceeded to be crushed within an inch of his life…karma at its finest. To my bewilderment, John rushed in to save the beast and tacked the zombie monk. All I could think to do was the run to the aid of my companion and pinned the head of the monk to the ground with a placed arrow.

Wow, I can hardly wait for the detailed report of others, one can only hope for accuracy by the law of averages... I certainly hope someone will recall the steed was actually an ancient talking Unicorn with a magic item gifted to our Elven Cleric, that every foot step of this magical beast brought back green life to the stunted grasses of the clearing around the tower, or that the front door of the circular tower was actually opened by a heroic throw of a spear by Pantheos Adonisia et'Turin! Oh well, time and many postings will tell. But the little bi-polar dude has earned his 4 exp pts as not only the first, but one of those posting the history of the night, well, an abridged and binocular view of it.

Wow, Another Natural One! You guys are a sink hole for luck. Stay away from my dice.

FYI 12/9 we gave out xp and bonus xp... We also established 0th lvl cleric spells can be converted into a 0d8 + Wis bonus heal spell by choice. Also, we are 4 days from a full moon. Everyone is alive after a day of healing, night of dog attack at 2 am from yeath hounds and subsequent massive night of healing to bring everyone back. Cealian and Charlotte are still asleep through it all, haha.

After taking serious injuries including the fighter losing vision in both of his eyes, thanks to the thumbs of a zombie monk, and multiple adventurers taking serious paralysis based wounds from the oozing muck monster living under the bridge the cleric is relieved to have gained the elven rod of healing given to him by the ancient talking unicorn and subsequently used to both give the fighter back his vision as well as revive two unconscious adventurers from near death. After this tolling healing process it was decided that the group would rest and recuperate after such an arduous battle and subsequent healing session. The dwarf, of course, chose to sleep up in a tree away from all of the horrors of the night as we surely wouldn't want his hefty axe to be too close to danger.

In the wee hours of the morning as the night moon shown through the clouds, the fighter was alerted by what seemed like coyote or wolf baying, but definitely of a higher pitch than normal. He managed to rouse the entire party, less one snoozing away in the comfort of the tree tops, before the hounds attacked.

The sight of the hounds, even at a distance, was so terrifying that both the fighter and the druid ran in great fear in the opposite direction of their yellow eyes. At first, the cleric was able to restrain the druid with a quick command and grab of the cloak, however, after roughly 6 seconds, the hounds were upon him and he had to release the druid for the druid's legs were so eager to flee that they could not be contained. In an instant the cleric cast a sanctuary spell to stop his supple intestines from being separated from his body and this caused the hounds to turn on the illusionist and mage. Unfortunately, the illusionist and mage were not able to either do damage nor defend themselves in any way. So as the illusionist ran behind the cleric he threw a hand behind him and cured him of his injuries. At the same time, the mage attempted to wake the dwarf once more by jumping into the tree in which he was sleeping. Of course, up until this point the baying hounds, teammates running in fear and commencement of battle was not enough to rouse the sleeping dwarf. When the mage attempted to jump into the tree with the dwarf, the two hounds below him grabbed onto his ankles and ripped him from his grasp of the trees branches. The dwarf, finally, was able to wake from his deep sleep and leapt onto the ground splitting the head of one hound from its body upon impact with his axe clear through it's throat. The cleric, after seeing that the mage was ready to have his supple entrails spilled upon the ground, heroicly leapt away from one hound and into two others to restore his fading life force. Upon this heroic leap and deciding that these ugly meat sacs were not worth killing for a quick meal, the hounds fled back into the dark chasm from whence they came.

And now we find ourselves, once again, in need of copious healing and spell casting from the cleric to restore the party back to livable form. Of course, without any thanks of any kind, per usual .

Meanwhile, on return from his run in fear through the woods, midasn decides that it is a good idea to walk up to another zombie monk and shove his trident through it's eyes. Of course, why would he not? Nothing bad happened the last time he freed and fought one of these ancient decrepit creatures. So once again the fighter asks for his eyes to be ripped from his tiny skull, however, this time the cleric might not choose to repair them .

Last night we completed defeating 4 salamander monsters that came out of lava pools and rivers within the island stronghold of the fire Giants. At the end of the night we were still in combat as far as I can tell and therefore did not hand out XP or any rewards. We were regrouping after the battle before moving into the next room. We also handle all of our character sheets to Captain Kirk. This way the next time we play high level and don't have everyone we will at least have all the characters. Also to note we used a new roles cleric sheet because the last one is still lost. What will come of the boy swept away by a flying fire lizard? Will the team be able to rally together into the heart of the fire giants dwelling and rescue the boy?

It felt like a month or more since I shouted those words. As quickly as they boomed from my mouth, I was back in the fray...

My newfound friends and I have come across a new challenge -- these snakes are only illusions, but they do pack quite a punch. Or fang. Either way, they hurt. When I killed the zombie monk (or was it a deadly blow to the snakes themselves?), the serpents turned to harmless sticks. I try to convey this message, hoping that one of our casters has something to dispel the magic.

None of them do. So we fight on.

It reminds me of hunting the tireless tundra bears in my frigid home in the north. Noble brutes, their docile nature provides a disarming front that is quickly fallen with a powerful swat of its paw. A steady spear thrust to the eye will send it reeling to the cold earth...

To the battle.

My companions seem concerned with a yellow ribbon. I see it, off in the distance, a stark contrast to the dull, diseased forest. The cleric mentioned something about war and color, but I see no armies. The one they call "Pan" starts chanting. It sounds to me like chalk on a chalk board. Not a particularly unpleasant sound, but --

Trident through the BACK! BOOM!

I remove the points from the poor sap's shoulder with my foot. It gleans in the sunlight like my first kill: a kodiak pair had wandered too far north and the chalkboard sound again.

More snakes now. My nearest ally is the nervous wizard. He seems capable, but he wouldn't be my first choice on a long hunt. Questioning everything, he is not quick to react. But he means well. As I am thinking this, he deftly blasts off a zombie's hand with an arcane projection. He looks as surprised as the victim. I make a mental note to stay on his good side. I gear up to finish the job. Off in the distance, I see small humanoids dodging and leaping for the tree. I barely make out what I believe is "sorry!".

I quickly leap over a snoring figure and another that will never snore again. I swipe my trident and, as easily as one opens a steaming bladder of bear haggis, the monster's belly opens and its innards spill onto the grass. Before I can savor the event, I feel a scratchy gnawing down my back, followed by a terrible, sharp pain at my neck.

Before I can make a sound in protest, the snoring becomes a snort, and the hairy, stout figure of the dwarf stirs in the mud and zombie ooze.

As I whip around I notice out of the corner of my eye a blast of light. What was at (and in) my back starts fleeing wildly.

The tree moves! I am not sure what sorcery is afoot, but I hope it is pleasant. The tree does a dance to the sound of the chalkboard. I see my fellows being scooped up like water in a bucket.

Wham! I stab my cowering attacker. He panics even more for that and gets into a sprint. Wham! I take my parting blow. The creature somehow manages to survive. It makes some distance, and while my senses tell me I would do well to end its unlife, I decide to turn my attention back to the fray...

Who am I kidding!?

I expertly steady my spear... my breath... all my senses lock, with only those needed for the task at hand on fire with focus and anticipation. I pull the pole back and aim like my life, and my companions', depends on it. I say a single word in prayer and let loose my thunderous bolt.

It screams like an angry boiling kettle through the sky. For an instant, it appeared to warp the air with thermal malice and fury. The scrambling beast, even if it was imbued with the Spirit of Cat, could not have reacted nearly enough to avoid the spear's gaze.

As it made its decent like a raging bull bowing to gore, my trident levels itself with the zombie's middle. As though it had a belt of explosives tied around its stomach that went off all at once, it tore apart. A wrenching, fiery nova of repulsion. Both halves depart; the legs pin into the ground and the trunk to the canopy branches above.

I breath in the silence, savoring the glory of my gory kill. I find it hard to pull away. Reverently I tread, all but oblivious to the chalk scratches that refuse to quit.

I pick up my pace, figuring my companions may need me. As I wander back to the tree commotion, I notice a splash. Another zombie is clamoring out of the mote, in a manner that beckons me close.

The dwarf starts shouting. I get tired of the racket... but suddenly all I hear is the whispering roar of a blizzard on the tundra. Massive prints fill my limited vision. Despite the frigid air whipping around me, my ancestral heightened sense of smell can faintly pick up the sweet odor of a polar bear. A trail of red petals imprint themselves in the snow alongside the tracks. I walk a ways and barely discern among all the white a small, black dot...

Whoosh! I am attacked once again! Luck be a zombie tonight!

I dodge and thrust my trident, brazing its husk. It retaliates, taking a nasty hold of my right shoulder. I sigh in relief that its claws are not lodged in my cranium through my eye sockets. Two objects go whizzing by. My companions seem to have managed to get a shot through the tree's leafy top, and are making an attempt at assisting. But I wish they wouldn't.

I take out my frustrations on the zombie. I barely have to bash the beast with my shield and he falls in a restless peace.

Tired, but satisfied, I sidle up to the tree. A leafy hand descends to accept me, like a cool bed after a long day working in the sun. I step forth and ascend.

Inside, the mood is somber. The group is beaten and exhausted. Or so it seems to me. Unanimously, we head to bed. After bandaging my shoulder, I make for a quiet spot near the gnome. With visions of limbs and appendages leaping through my thoughts, I relax. The disgusting tinkerer makes fitful movement just as I was drifting off. I make out some disturbing moaning noise, and then he is still. He mumbles to himself. I should keep my distance, I make another mental note.

The night provides a solid rest. The next morning, while I was stretching and preparing for the day, I was, for some reason, made to bury some type of pea in the holes left by removing the posts in each of the pits. What sense this makes I leave to the gnome.

After, as the group decides on our next action, I make my way towards the beaten, ragged bridge. Commendably, the skittish wizard joins my side. The dwarf, pointing out a black goo oozing from the mortar of the tower. It emboldens my resolve. Whatever the source of evil tormenting this forest, it must be waiting inside the keep.

I hear the group discussing recollection of a meeting with a green wizard. They speak of boiling water in a coin?

Wu-shu is the third child of a alchemist. During childhood I was an Illegitimate third son where two children were often seen as too many, for this reason I was raised by a cruel secret aunt. As a young adult, I traveled abroad to far west deserts. While away, my home village was wiped out by royal order come down from the emperor.

When I returned to find my home destroyed i moved to borderlands to train my skills in the wilderness. While in the wild spending nights under starry lonesome sky's I became interested in poetry, crystals and ants. I spent many nights with ants as my only companions, I can find them easily even at night. However, being in the desert I never learned how to swim. Even the smallest of waters terrifies me.

Thorne Nightbane’s past is shrouded in mystery as is often the case for orphans and castaway children. What is known is he was found wandering in the forests of northern Uppsala by the duo of Viggo Tyrson and Bjorn Brightmorn the only surviving members of the Order of the Arrow of Law, Church of Tyr.

The OAL was an ancient sect dedicated to the worship of the God Tyr and tasked with bringing justice and order to all realms of the Skaneland. Though not the only, nor by far the largest Order dedicated to the God Tyr, the OAL was known for their militant and straightforward response to the forces of evil and chaos. The seat of the OAL was north of the Island of Hedeby on the reach of Tyr’s Hand near Odin’s Sanctuary. For hundreds of years the OAL was the light in the darkness which kept evil from the doors of men, and brought justice to the guilty.

The OAL was betrayed by its most influential patron Jarl Skeld An-Craite. An-Craite was secretly cursed with lycanthropy and fell under the sway of the Cult of Fenrir. This cult worship the Fenrir, the wolf who will devour the world, and hate Tyr and his followers for the ravager’s captivity. On the Eve of the Autumnal Equinox while the members of the OAL slept in their stronghold, An-Craite gave entry to the skin changers of the Cult of Fenrir. The slaughter wrought by the man-beasts was legendary, and though many wolf worshipers fell, Tyrson and Brightmorn where the only survivors. Forced to flee the COF, they adopted a nomadic existence preaching their God’s doctrine and seeking to re-establish the ways of their order. It was in this capacity they found the child who they would name Nightbane.

Thorne was raised to the sword, the art of battle and divine purity by his Paladin mentor Viggo Tyrson. Bjorn Brightmorn, Priest of Tyr instilled in him a deep devotion to his faith, the divine power of his God and the tenants of his church. Thorne grew to manhood under the tutelage of his foster fathers and he now shares their devotion to the ideals of his deity. A wanderer, he is well versed in hunting, fishing and living off the land. He knows woodcraft and wilderness survival, as well as the complexities of armor and weapons maintenance.

In his twentieth year, the trio were ambushed in the forests of Goth-land by a raiding party of the Cult of Fenrir. Hopelessly outnumbered, his patrons called upon their liege-right and ordered him to flee, to live, to fight another day, while they purchased his escape with their lives. Thorne is obsessed with avenging his mentors and re-establishing his order, a tall order for one against many. He now wanders the realms seeking to bring justice and light to those who suffer in the darkness, biding his time, marshalling his strength and dreaming of vengeance.

"The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for. I believe the second part."